Stormheart
by Sekkan
Summary: You remember Zigget, right? Got perhaps two lines in the second book. Everyone loves Zigget. Well he left Zarin to go after pirates. But when he arrived things proved more complicated. He meets a group of splintering Spiritualists, though he wouldn't call them that, but they are his only nearby option for assistance. So they'll have to do. But this isn't only his story.


**Chapter One**

Tower Keeper Andrews wasn't proud of many things. Of how in his old age his duties had slipped further and further into the background. He still enjoyed his job, as much as most at least. However he no longer had the vigor to pursue it as he had when younger, for his passion and energy was all but gone now. But most of all, he wasn't proud of how this laxness had taken root in the younger spiritualists that were also his duty to have mentored and supervised.

Start them down their path, teach them right from wrong and all that. What he'd created weren't spiritualists however. They were more harbor masters and shipping officials than members of the Spirit Court. It had started with small things, overlooking what only the most stern of the order took to heart. But he hadn't realized how bad it had truly gotten till now, with the arrival of Spiritualist Marten Zigget from Zarin itself.

As he stood upon the tower's lower balcony, for the air was calm though cool and wet, the door open to the lobby behind him. He tried to conceal his shame as he stared absently out at the ocean as its waves washed over the building's foundation of stone that seamlessly became the tower. A ray of light extending from the floor above, went streaking across the horizon again and again like a single spoke of a wheel. Yet faintly for the sun was just peaking above the ocean's curve.

His fire spirit, one that welcomed his offer of service, only after it realized what the final result of his enthusiastic consumption of a sinking galleon whose powder stores had gone up a short distance from the harbor. That was long ago, when this newly formed tower meant something sincere to him and all those it loomed over, besides more docking fees under the excuse of their promised protection.

Now it was simply a light house, housing some merchants in Spirit Court robes, a gluttonous fire that had grown drunk with his constant supply of oil as it spun its mirror around and around, and a very tired old man. He closed his eyes to hide the disappointment they contained as he turned back to the trial... the discussion proceeding behind him, as his students continued to argue with the newly introduced inspector.

"And you've received complaints of pirates? Of course we have problems with such...things, but every sea does. Why does this concern the Court so much as to send an envoy?"

"Complaints of these pirates are not from men, because you know very well that they are not just mere cutthroat barbarians."

"Rumors and sailor tales." The young man waived dismissively.

"So you know the stories these enslavers have born and yet you've investigated nothing and if anything have aided them by downplaying the threat they pose. These complaints are not as contained as you wish however, for they have not only reached the Rector himself, as my presence proves, but winds and everything they carry, wail of them and their fear of returning to your coast. Its clear from the small bit of inquiry I've done, that to the spirits under your protection they are completely common knowledge and take them as normal dangers of daily life."

"You think because of this gossip that we are neglecting our duties?"

"The court is all but certain of it and if the stories hadn't been so varied farther inland, there would be more than an investigation."

"This is absurd. We are not just sitting about and polishing our belt buckles and shining-"

"We certainly are." Andrews snapped, opening his eyes and tightening his robe before sinking into his chair at the table's head. "We have been self-serving in our actions and neglecting our duties and it is time to set things to rights. Far past time. I want you to gather the others. We're going to turn this problem over until we have a solution we are at least confident in, if not proud of."

No one moved, this hardly surprised him. Andrews looked up at his apprentice to repeat his orders, but the confused looking young man, Nickle, just stared blankly as he replied slowly as if he thought his master a baby or more likely by the wrinkles beginning to form, senile.

"Master, we're already here. Both of us." Andrews followed the boy's gaze to Alia, a small woman who sat alone in an armchair by the door, silent as dirt as she brushed a sliver of black chalk pressed between her fingers over a length of paper. Her eyes flicked up just long enough to smile innocently, as if embarrassed by having been overlooked, she fooled no one, then went back to her art. Andrews had no desire to reveal that he'd had indeed missed her presence.

"You say both, but last I checked I... the Court was funding three students. So where is Parkens, and Alia, would you kindly sit here with the rest of us till we are finished." The black haired girl tapped her nails against her smokey jeweled bracelet before setting down her tools and paper then rose. As she approached Nickle spoke again, less softly than before but still with a hint of that tone that said his master was just a poor, crazy, old man that might keel over any time now.

"Master, Parkens is...well Parkens. He'll show up when he wishes. Its absurd to wait for him to arrive, it could be hours. Honestly he could have gone out on the sea again and he might return today or even this month. He didn't tell anyone when he took off for the north, chasing frosts and powers know-"

"Enough!" Andrews said sharpy, in a voice he'd hadn't summoned in years and as his throat tightened he remembered why. Yes, Parkens was bit of a loose end, but this was only an attempt bring trouble on a rival and this was not time to deal with such things. The inspector from Zarin hardly needed another reason to end all operations until a questioning or worse had taken place. He could see Spiritualist Zigget already forming the words to ask.

"I would lik-"

"Alia, where is Parkens at this moment?" Andrews asked calmly and thankfully she answered without hesitation.

"In the harbor, bringing ships into dock. You can see his flag announcing that from here." She said gesturing out the window. Informing or not, it clearly wasn't the answer Marlin Zigget wanted to hear.

"Parkens is your wind spiritualist correct? The sort of which the court has hardly more than a dozen if you include even the most minor servants."

"Yes. He has three now."

"Three?" he replied, exasperated which amused Andrews slightly. "The Rector may have more, but I've heard of no other."

"They take a liking to him quite readily. Its perhaps his like to travel as young Nickel pointed out." he said trying to calm the inspector, while also trying not to seethe at the boy for exaggerating, if only slightly and starting this new mess. "I believe he's still bringing his newest, a north wind as Nickel also supplied, up to speed. He has them push about the smaller vessels to practice their control. We make a bit off the service, more than three quarters of which is given to the Court directly." The inspector didn't bite or soften in the slightest.

"I'm sure such donations are well appreciated, but do you know what a difference three wind spirits could make elsewhere, and to find you have them merely moving boats about for a fee is an almost sickening waste, and perhaps an abuse of the Court's resources." Andrews wasn't surprised when Nickel, red faced in rage at this offense to his personal honor as a member of the same tower, hissed.

"Its not our fault. Parkens might as well be a wind himself for as much as you can leash him. If told to go back to Zarin for reassigning he would probably just sail away and never return. He not in this line of work for the Court or responsibility. He does it so he can keep his spirits without consequence or-"

Alia finally managed to silence the boy and Andrews decided to believe she hadn't intentionally made use of her lighting servant to do so, after verbal requests and physical force failed. It was a moment before Nickel, his short blonde hair standing on end, was breathing again.

"You must not get some worked up when you keep spirits such as that, Alia." Andrews scolded, then turned and watched the inspector, who watched him in return for a long while.

"I see laxness goes farther than I thought here, in many ways." Alia blushed and tried to hide her face behind her hands, while Nickel tried to flatten his hair. "I would very much like to meet Spiritualist Parkens." he continued coldly. "Immediately."


End file.
